


Silly, Silly Dress

by ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Series: Time Adrift Among Open Stars [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drabble, F/M, First Kiss, Random Pairing Generator, Rare Pairings, Ryncol is not good for Humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zaeed pretends to be a responsible adult. He sorta pulls it off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silly, Silly Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Zaeed and Kelly-Losing Control

"What do you mean, Grunt gave you ryncol?" Zaeed barked at the girl leaning with a drunken slouch on the bar.  
  
"He said I was a-was a whi-a whim-a lightweight," Kelly slurred. Then she stood tall in a burst of energy, a finger pointed to Purgatory's ceiling. "But I am not a lightweight! I'm a-I'm a-not lightweight!" Her burst of energy was short lived as she crashed heavily down on the barstool.  
  
"Oh, jesusfuckingchrist," Zaeed muttered. He regarded the girl, and she was just a girl for all her education and ability to scrunch up in people's heads for a look around, with a mix of trepidation and an ill feeling of responsibility. She was in no state to move about the Citadel on her own, much less remain at this shitty bar to be picked up by some random asshole. Grunt was no where to be found. Of course. He gave a heavy sigh and cursed the tank-bred Krogan for not the first nor the last time. "Alright, lass. Let's get you home."  
  
"Home!" Her head shot up and she gave a blurry look around. "Home, James!"  
  
"Yeah, okay. Whatever." He took a skinny arm and slung it over his shoulder, pulling the girl off the stool. She immediately procured jelly legs and wobbled heavily over into his side so that he had to overcompensate his stance. His other arm wrapped around her narrow waist, calloused hands catching on the fabric of her too-short, silky dress.  
  
She looked up at him and gave him a big, boozy grin. "Hi..."  
  
"Fucking hell." He gave her a tug, started guiding her towards the door. "Let's go, girl."  
  
She giggled and wrinkled her very buttoned nose at him. "You swear a lot. A lot. Alotalotalotalot." She jerked her body up in another burst of energy. "Did you know that people who swear tend to be more honest?" She poked him in the chest, hard, and he suddenly regretted his decision to wear fatigues instead of armor. She had a sharp, pointy finger.  
  
"I couldn't give a flying fuck." Both hands were occupied with holding her up, so he couldn’t grab the finger to remove it from the hole she seemed intent on boring into his flesh through his ribcage.  
  
"And that! See? Is very honest of you, sir! You, sir, are an honest man! Because you swear a who-o-le fucking lot!" She clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. "Oops. I sweared."  
  
"You sure did. Watch yer step."  
  
He helped her down the stairs one at a time. "You're very helpful." She took a step and flopped her hand on her thigh. "Why are you so helpful?" Zaeed just rolled his eyes and kept a firm grip on her waist. "You're psycho-lo-logic-al profile is a mess! You, sir-" she poked her finger in his chest again. Medigel, he thought, might help later with the bruising. "-are a walking contradic-contradic-you shouldn't exist!"  
  
"I'm sure many agree with you on that," he mumbled. They reached the bottom step and she swirled away from him, stumbling backwards as he followed along, trying and failing to not notice how the skirt of her dress flipped out over her thighs as she twirled.  
  
"You!" she waved her arms around in the air, "You do all sorts of crazy things that don't! make! sense!" She stopped her arm waving and held her arms out wide. "Mmm! Let's all have ryncol! All the time!" Her body wavered, one knee buckling under her and he stepped forward quickly to support her before she ended up on her goddamn cute, girly behind. "Oop!" She leaned in close, and he had to force himself to not veer away from the alcoholic fumes as she stage whispered. "You're very strong." She patted his chest with a flat palm. "S' a good thing."  
  
"C'mon, girl. More walking, less talking."  
  
"Right!" She turned, too quickly, and wobbled again so that he had to grab her around the waist. "Onward!"  
  
She was blessedly quiet-if you discounted the humming-until they arrived at the taxi stand, where she started smooshing her face with her hands. "My face feels funny." She pinched her lips between her fingers. "I think my lips are on backwards."  
  
He barked a laugh and shook his head, then guided her into a taxi and pushed her over to get in himself. She promptly slid close enough to lean her head on his shoulder. "My face is puffy," she sighed.  
  
"No, it's not."  
  
"It feels like there's a balloon in my brain. I think there's something wrong."  
  
"No. It's just the goddamn ryncol."  
  
"Mmm. I like goddamn ryncol." She giggled and tucked her hands around his arm. "You're cute." Another burst of energy made her sit straight up. "You are," she argued, even though he hadn't said a word, eyeing her sideways. "Why don't you believe me?" She waved a hand over the air between them. "You've got that tough guy mystique thing do-ow-wn." She slumped back against him. "Nipples is a funny word, isn't it. Nipples nipples nipples." She looked up at him with blurry eyes. "Why do men have nipples?" She looked out the window at the other passing cars. "Nipplesnipplesnipples."  
  
Zaeed rolled his eyes, again, and wondered how Shepard could stand it with this Chatty Cathy up in the CIC.  
  
It was thankfully a short taxi ride to the docking bays, so he only had to hear about nipples for another minute and then he'd tried to wrestle her from the car while attempting to keep both their dignities intact. Eventually he gave up on that idea and just pulled her bodily out.  
  
"Oof! You're strong!" Kelly brushed back her hair as he set her on her feet. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a big, drunken hug.  
  
Alarm bells went off as his comfort level was crossed and he stood with his arms suspended awkwardly over her shoulders. "Leave off, girl."  
  
"Mmm. No. You need a hug." She squeezed tighter, which made him grunt. It'd been longer than just awhile since he'd had something so young and fresh in such close proximity to his body. He had to remind himself firmly that she wasn't all there in the head with that ryncol running through her system. Still-  
  
"You're thingy is hard," she giggled in a conspiratory whisper.  
  
Okay, well. He wouldn't have called it hard. But his dick had definitely caught the scent of something it wanted. "My _thingy_ doesn't know its arse from its elbow. Of course it's hard." He took a firm grip of her arms and tried to push them down off his waist.  
  
She was a strong little bitch. And tenacious. And maybe he didn't try as hard as he should, told himself that if he used too much force she'd bruise. He felt himself slipping, dick starting to think it could make all the decisions and wouldn't that be grand when he let it. So when she tipped herself up on her toes and her heated, jet-fuel breath smacked up against his mouth, he allowed himself a moment to not think with his brain and it was goddamn fucking glorious. Her lips were full and pliant beneath his, the pressure so light and teasing it made his heart thump. His hands came to rest on the small of her back and he could feel the curves, the softness and warmth of her youth all just waiting under that fucking silly dress.  
  
She gave him a small noise, a little groan on his lips and with that his mouth was open, tongue warring with hers as he tightened his grip. Rough mercenary hands bunched her dress in fists and he wasn't tender when he yanked her body in tight against his so that his _thingy_ could get a good taste of her as well. His brain tried to interfere more than once, tried to make him see sense, but he wasn't having any of it. Not now. Not when this bright young thing was so willing and sensual in the way alcohol can make a girl loose and lose control, when she'd otherwise have nothing to do with a man like him.  
  
Still he knew, deep down where his better sense lurked, that there would never be anything beyond that kiss. He'd never have the privilege of knowing what her skin felt like under his palm, never know the color or size of her areola, if she was an inny or if she shaved her pubic hair. He'd never know what it felt like to slip his fingers into her or know her noises when he got her off. And his dick would only have to wonder what it would feel like to be buried up to the hilt inside her. No. This was all he would get. Because in the light of day pretty, little things like her wouldn't look twice at broken, old things like him.  
  
So he separated himself with regret and a moan that escaped of its own volition, that he wished he hadn't uttered at all. She sighed, a puff of warmth over his face that made him set her back, firmly this time, his arms locked at the elbows. She blinked at him, all innocence and big eyes and he knew then that he was lost, falling off a cliff with no ground in sight. He didn't do unrequited, but it was bloody well time to learn because there was no fucking way in hell that anything would ever come of this.  
  
"Zaeed," she whispered.  
  
"What?" Not softly, not like a lover, but harsh and irritated, because that was honest. And apparently he was honest if nothing else.  
  
"I'm gonna-"  
  
And then she did before he could even take a step back. All down his front with the smell of acid and goddamn ryncol rising up in the air between them and the warm wetness soaking into his clothes. Well, this he could understand. It wasn't the first time he'd had vomit down his front, sometimes belonging to someone other than him. It probably wouldn't be the last either. Not to say that he enjoyed it. “Goddamnit, Kelly-”  
  
"Sorry," she mumbled, fisting her mouth. "I'm sorry-"  
  
He sighed, felt the weight of his fucking traitorous brain as it took over again. He scooped her up and carried her the remaining steps back to the ship, his hands tender as he held her, a thumb rubbing the fabric of her silky dress. "S'alright," he said. And that wasn't being honest. Not in the goddamn slightest.


End file.
